'Twas a fine evening for a pipe and some cherry moonshine.
I bought a clay pipe from Ireland and used it tonight for the first time.
Forgot this week about most of the reading for classes so there'll be a lot of Yeats on the train tomorrow morning.
I like him better when it's raining.
You know?
Some things are better read in the rain or the sun
or on a train
or whilst completely stationary in your window seat.
Yeats happens to read very well when the skies are a bit grey.
[no surprise there, you may say rightly.]
The weather calls for sun tomorrow, so it seems I'll have to plug on through anyhow.
Sleep is a thing lately that is not swift in coming & not long in staying. You know? Summer seems ripe with that, what with the sun and the wildness and the loudness of it. I try to force myself to like it, to enjoy the brazen, unapologetic heat. But I'm more content when at least the mornings are cooler.
Had more to say -- something funny too, and I've forgotten it now of course.
No comments:
Post a Comment